


Biological Imperatives

by Elvichar



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-27
Updated: 2011-03-27
Packaged: 2017-10-17 07:52:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 20,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/174577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elvichar/pseuds/Elvichar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are many alternate universes and not all of them make sense. Dr McKay, biologist, wakes up in bed with a stranger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

He turned over. Last night had been a horrible, horrible mistake. He could tell from the dull ache in his head and the pins and needles in his arm. Either he had slept on it or someone else was sleeping on it.

If the latter, he wasn't entirely sure who that someone else could be.

This wasn't like him - wasn't like him at all.  
He didn't remember drinking that much last night, but clearly he had.

Dr. Rodney McKay measured his life in coffee spoons most days, measuring it in spirits was so uncharacteristic.

Last night had been a celebration. After years working in that pisspot university, he had finally got a break.

He hadn't felt this relieved since the sixth grade, when Angela Cook persuaded him not to exhibit that nuclear bomb at the science fair. She had a tip off that Mr. Waverley, the head of the science department had heard about the plan and was determined to award anyone pulling any 'stunts' an F.

Rodney was not going to risk having any future career prospects blighted by a silly little slip like that.

The year after Angela had also persuaded him that physics was an easy option - that if he wanted to impress her he would be better off taking something that had more of a future. He had agreed; she was sweet and pretty and his only friend and he would have done anything to make her happy.

So he invested all his efforts into biology. It came harder to him than physics ever did, he didn't really feel he was a natural at it, but Angela was his lab partner and that was all that mattered at the time.

It took another three years for him to realize she was never going to see him that way, and by then the crush had disappeared on his part, too. She wasn't really his type anyway.  
By that time he was finding the subject ridiculously easy and had decided to make genetic research his life's work.

It had been humiliating in the extreme when he found that his PhD thesis on genetic anomalies and the wayward gene (a project he had been working on for almost five years) had been rejected because it was far too similar to one submitted a week before by someone else - a medical doctor working in Britain. Dr. Carson Beckett was, as far as Rodney was concerned, his nemesis.

Nobody accused him of plagiarism, but his reputation had been tarnished. He had had to throw together another study based on obscure mutations in mollusks. He was now seen as the world's foremost expert in snails, clams and mussels.

Then, miraculously, only last week he had been approached because of his original thesis. Someone high up in the US government had got hold of a copy and they wanted his knowledge and expertise. He was not going to turn them down. The only other offer he had had lately was an invitation to host a symposium on the Brown Mystery Snail.

Hence the celebrations.

Right now, he only wished he knew to whom the mystery hand on his thigh belonged. He had the vaguest recollection of a tallish, darkish sort of handsome stranger.

Whoever was attached to the arm coughed, gently. They were evidently waking up.

"What time is it?" A voice asked. It had a hint of a southern state about it, Rodney thought. Though he couldn't be sure. All Americans sounded more or less the same to him. The only difference was some of them sounded female and some of them male. This voice was definitely male. He would have been more freaked out by that if he hadn't decided long ago that, as nobody ever seemed to be interested in him anyway, he would take whatever was offered. Maybe it had come from working around the mollusks for so long - gender differences were all a bit hazy to him these days.

Not that he wasn't discriminating - not that he didn't have standards - but if someone was prepared to find him attractive he was prepared to do the same for them. At least that's what he kept telling himself. It was theoretical rather than practical. Until now. Possibly. Although he wasn't sure if anything had actually happened. Probably not - he felt the same as always.

Last night been a double celebration/leaving party for two of members of the science faculty. Rodney had never really spoken to the other departing academic - but he had seen him around. He worked on the other campus most of the time, and as Rodney tended not to associate with the physics professors - it made him bitter, considering what might have been.

He had managed to catch the other man's name though. Shepley or Sheffield or Sheppard or something.

He had apparently been offered a position in Belgium.

Everyone thought Rodney was going to Czechoslovakia to study the terrestrial mollusks of the Ponto-Caspian region; that was the cover story the US government had given him.

Rodney looked over to his alarm clock. It was far too early to be awake. "It's 4.30am," he mumbled to the unidentified person sharing his bed.

"Oh shit, I was hoping to be up by 3am - I have a plane to catch."

Rodney suddenly pulled his arm from under the other man and sat up awkwardly - causing a rush of blood to his head. He had to put his head between his legs.

"Ow."

"Are you all right?" The voice said.

"Low blood sugar - I'll be fine," Rodney mumbled. He had a plane to catch as well - it had slipped his mind. How could he have got so drunk the night before? He kept his head between his knees until some of the dizziness passed. He felt a hand on his back. "I'll be fine, really."

When he finally looked up he saw the face of that Sheffield man.

"Uh, listen," said the man. "I don't want to be rude or anything - but what the hell happened last night? I seem to have passed out and I don't seem to have any recollection of anything much ... last thing I remember clearly was Dr. Ramirez passing me - and you I think - a shot of tequila, and insisting we drink them straight down. Do you think there's a chance he might have, you know, spiked our drinks? "

Knowing Dr. Ramirez, Rodney was positive that had been exactly what had happened.

"Well, this is embarrassing." Rodney sighed. "But as I am sure nothing actually happened - and as we still have time to catch our respective planes - I suggest we just get dressed and go our separate ways."

The other man nodded formally. "Yeah. I guess that's... best." He smiled a little sadly.

"Well, it's been nice knowing you, briefly, Dr. Sheffield," Rodney held his hand out for the other man to shake.

"Sheppard," the man took the hand and shook it firmly. "Pity we never really got to know each other."

Rodney gave a brief, joyless snort. "Yes. Quite."

Sheppard dressed quickly and left quietly and Rodney was left staring at his empty room.


	2. Two

Whatever Dr. Ramirez had slipped him it hadn't left that much of a hangover and fortunately Rodney had packed all of his stuff weeks ago – the very second after he'd been offered a position. He had planned for every eventuality.

Which meant that he would still make the plane in good time. Check-in wasn't until 7am; he just preferred being as early as possible.

His colleagues were imbeciles. He was sick of jokes about his crispy outer shell and soft, squidgy interior. And his students were just as bad.

Considering how respected in his field he was, he found it almost impossible to get any respect at all from any of them.

He wasn't even sure what he was supposed to be doing for the government – it was so top secret they couldn't elaborate - but as long as it wasn't biological warfare he didn't much care.

In fact even if it was, he wouldn't have been that concerned. At least it got him out of this place.

 

He couldn't believe the seat they'd assigned him - right at the back of the plane, in the middle of an aisle. Even though he had specially requested a window seat, next to an emergency exit, with plenty of leg room and easy access to the bathroom. But not too near.

The woman behind the counter at the check-in desk was not listening to reason.

"Look - I have a number of very delicate conditions. I could keel over at any second - how am I going to get medical attention if nobody can reach me?"

"Can I help any?" A slightly familiar voice came from behind. Rodney turned around slowly and was met with a grin.

"I have a spare seat - the people I work for thought I might want to travel with a friend. Is there any way we could put it in this gentleman's name?" He smiled winningly at the check-in girl, who was clearly immediately smitten.

"Look that's very kind - but if it's in the middle of a row, it won't help."

"No - it's in a good spot. In first class."

Rodney suddenly wished he was working for whoever Sheppard was working. They sounded rather more accommodating than the US government.

"Didn't someone say you were going to Belgium?"

"Ah - yes. That's true. I have to stop off at Washington first. Hey, aren't you going to Croatia or something?" Sheppard said quizzically.

"No, Czechoslovakia. Or, rather, the Czech Republic. Keep forgetting they've changed the name. Istanbul, not Constantinople and all."

"So you're going to Istanbul?"

"No - the song... No. I'm going to Eastern Europe. Definitely. Via Washington."

"Wasn't there a more direct flight?"

"No, no, this was as direct as it got." Sometimes Rodney wished he was better at lying.

They were there far too early. The plane didn't take off until almost half-past-nine. It meant that Rodney was forced to spend time with Sheppard, for politeness sake. The man had got him a free upgrade after all - and they were going to be sitting together on the plane so any animosity might be a little hard to bear. And at least he got to hang out in the first class lounge - which was a considerable improvement on the hard plastic seats and vending machines he would have had to endure outside.

However, it made conversation with the man obligatory. They had already exhausted the weather(unseasonable)and local restaurants (pitiful), and successfully managed to avoid any and all references to whatever had happened last night (which was nothing). It was forgotten. It hadn't happened. If they hadn't bumped into each other here they would never even have seen each other again.

After half-an-hour the discussion had more or less ground to a halt. Then Sheppard spoke.

"So," he drawled, "you're a malacologist. I always wanted to go into that sort of field myself."

Rodney's eyebrows shot up. "You did?" He was surprised Sheppard even knew enough about his specialism to bandy the term around.

"Yeah. I only opted for physics because I thought it would stand me in better stead when it came to getting into the air force. That didn't work." His mouth drifted into the same melancholy, slightly resigned smile Rodney had seen on him that morning.

It was an awkward moment, and there seemed to be something he wasn't saying. Rodney really wasn't prepared to get into anything personal right now, so the best course seemed to be to pretend he hadn't seen anything. Rodney didn't want to get a reputation for perception. He wore his lack of interpersonal skills as a badge of honour.

"You were going to join the services?" Rodney snorted. He looked at Sheppard's unruly hair. "I can't see them accepting you."

"Well, they didn't. I was devastated."

"Lucky break."

"Yeah. Maybe." Sheppard looked around then whispered conspiratorially. "What are your favourites anyway – I like cephalopods."

"Ah – I see. A giant squid fan. Why am I not surprised? I suppose you like dinosaurs, sharks and alligators too, don't you?" He didn't give Sheppard time to agree, but he could see from the goofy grin on the man's face that he was right. "So, Cephalopoda, yes, they are interesting – but I am best known for my work with gastropoda and bivalvia."

"Cool."

"Cool?" Rodney looked at him askance. "I consider myself to be a geneticist more than a malacologist anyway."

"Really? I would have thought you'd be proud of your achievements. After all, you're famous, man."

"Famous?

"Yeah. I saw that show you did on the Discovery Channel. It was great."

"Right." Rodney had only agreed to appear in the program because they had lied to him about what sort of people were likely to be watching. He had assumed it was for a purely academic audience - not showing somewhere just anyone could learn from his expertise. He certainly hadn't wanted it seen by people like Sheppard. He wouldn't mind betting that 'Doctor' Sheppard had bought his degrees from an off-shore company in Central America.

"I haven't done any TV," Sheppard grinned. Again. Did the man ever stop smiling? "Most of my work has been a little too arcane to be shared with the general public."

"Oh, I suppose you're some sort of James Bond type super spy, aren't you?"

"Well, more like 'Q' really - but thanks for the compliment."

"It wasn't... oh forget it." Rodney was too tired to argue. He couldn't have got more than two hours sleep last night - no thanks to the man sitting next to him. Although nothing happened. Obviously.

The flight number was called soon afterwards. The plane successfully boarded they settled down for the five hour flight to the other coast.

As the plane took off Rodney gripped the armrests, accidentally brushing Sheppard's arm. He sprang back quickly and apologized, but the other man just smiled at him and then closed his eyes.

"Nervous? I love this part," he said. "There's nothing like feeling yourself being thrust into the sky. I could do this every day and still get a kick out of it." He opened his eyes again and looked at Rodney, who was suddenly feeling queasy. "Are you all right?"

"I'm... fine...." As the air pressure built, Rodney's ears started to pop. He gulped in some air, but it didn't help. Before he knew what was happening everything went black.


	3. Three

The lips on his were a surprise. Rodney opened his eyes just as whoever was responsible moved away.

"What the hell are you doing?" He said.

"The kiss of life, what does it look like?" Sheppard said, slightly irritated.

Rodney wiped his mouth. "Aren't you supposed to be trained to do stuff like that?"

"Yeah. I am trained."

"Is he Ok? I have a cold compress." An anxious-looking steward was hovering in the aisle behind Sheppard.

"That won't be necessary, thank you." Rodney insisted. "I'm perfectly fine."

"You fainted," Sheppard said.

"I most certainly did not."

"Trust me - I'm a doctor," Sheppard lifted his eyebrow.

"Not a medical doctor though... are you?"

"Well... Not as such. I did a nursing qualification though. I was bored one summer and it seemed like a civil-minded thing to do. And if anyone asks I can say I am a doctor and a nurse." Sheppard looked inordinately pleased with himself. It made Rodney want to slap him.

"Well, what a perfect person you must be. I bet your mother is really proud of her little boy."

"I think I need a drink," was Sheppard's only reply. "Steward, can you take away the compress and come back with two kir royales, please?"

"It's a bit early for alcohol, isn't it?" Rodney wondered whether the man was an alcoholic. It would certainly explain the hair.

"Maybe it is - but it's a long flight and I have a feeling I am going to need something to get me through it. Besides, you could do with something to relax you."

 

Two kir royales and a bellini later, Rodney was inclined to agree. He had never flown first class before - he could have afforded it at any time, but he was careful with his money. If it was on the same flight, going the same way, he failed to see why paying a thousand dollars more was at all rational. If this was what it was always like he could get used to it.

The stewards had been incredibly helpful and pleasant. On previous flights he had been used to asking the stewardesses to do something for him only to have them frown and even snarl in return. The staff in this part of the plane were far more accommodating.Rodney wondered if they put the nicer ones up at the front of the plane and made the surly ones work coach. Or perhaps it was that dealing with the hoi-polloi made the poor suckers at the back more miserable and less-fulfilled in their work.

The steward who had brought the compress earlier had kept Rodney well supplied with snacks. And now it was nearly lunch time and the menu was fantastic. He had no idea what to choose - it all sounded so delicious.

"What are you having - I don't want to have the same thing?" Rodney asked Sheppard anxiously.

"Why not?"

"Well it just isn't done. I have to have something else."

"Well whatever you choose I'll have something different. It doesn't bother me."

"Oh. Right. Well in that case I'll have the medallions of beef with the cracked potatoes and red onion compote."

"And I'll have the same."

Rodney glared at him.

"Only joking. I'll have the lemon chicken." Sheppard folded his arms and smiled.

"No don't have that. I'm allergic to lemon."

"Well you're not going to be eat... Ok. I won't have that I'll have the ..." he looked at the menu. "Green salad."

"Just a salad?" Rodney said, shocked.

"Not a salad either? Sheesh. Ok - I'll have the lamb tagine?" He looked at Rodney expectantly.

"Good choice," Rodney said, handing back the menu. "Unless there's lemon in it." He looked at the steward. "There's not is there?"

The steward assured him it was lemon-free.

"I hate to think how complicated it's going to be getting dessert," Sheppard said.

"Not hard at all - they have coffee mousse or chocolate roulade. Either would be perfectly acceptable."

Sheppard nodded slowly. "Fine. I'm easy."

"Good good."

The sounds of delight coming from Rodney caused more than one of his fellow passengers to look over to his seat with some degree of concern. Sheppard dealt with it by smiling and waving appeasingly at them. Rodney did nothing, he didn't notice the attention he was getting.

"Are you going to finish that?" Rodney pulled the plate from the tray in front of Sheppard and mopped up what was left of the lamb - which was most of it. "We don't have time to watch a movie now, do we? This flight's gone surprisingly quickly." He said between mouthfuls.

"It's been fun," Sheppard nodded. "We should keep in touch."

"Yes. Of course. Only I don't have a cell phone and I am not entirely sure where I am going to be in the next few months." Rodney shrugged and carried on eating.

"That's a pity. Email?"

"Is that dessert? Fantastic... I'll have another bellini if they're still available, too." Rodney smiled at the stewardess. She was pretty and blonde and more attentive than most pretty blonde women were with him.

"Sure." Sheppard said, almost under his breath.

 

The landing was less eventful than the take-off. Sheppard had been very quiet during the last hour of the journey and Rodney had used the lull in the conversation to take a power nap. He woke up just as the pretty blonde stewardess was making sure everyone had put on their seat belt and switch off any electrical equipment.

Sheppard leaned over. "Do you need anyone to hold your hand while we're landing?"

"I'm sure that won't be necessary." Rodney said tightly.

"Well just holler if you change your mind."

Rodney frowned. He wondered whether he had done anything to offend the man. Then he dismissed that errant thought. He had been perfectly charming and on his best behavior all morning.

 

Rodney was expecting someone with a sign to come and pick him up from here. Anyone. He looked around and couldn't see a likely candidate . Almost immediately he started to wonder whether this was all a big, elaborate practical joke. Maybe the government didn't really want him. Maybe he had got it all wrong.

Then he spotted someone. It was a massive relief. A military man of some sort if the uniform and buzz cut were any indication. He was perceptive like that.

"Are you Dr. Rodney McKay?" The tall man said. His sneer suggested he didn't seem very impressed to be meeting such a world class biologist.

"I am he. Are you my escort to the rendezvous?" Rodney offered a mock salute.

The man saluted back, automatically. "Good to meet you, sir. Lieutenant Kavanagh of the United States Marine Corps at your service. And, yes, sir - I am here to escort you. You and Dr. John Sheppard. I was supposed to have a sign for him too, but someone stole it."

"Why would someone... ? Wait, Dr. Sheppard?"

"Have you seen him, sir?"

"You were supposed to be meeting Dr. Sheppard?" He spluttered.

"Did somebody call my name?" Sheppard put his hand on Rodney's shoulder. "Hey, is this our escort? Nice uniform. I like the hat."


	4. Four

The lieutenant sprang to attention.

"Sir, Major Sheppard, sir." He saluted stiffly.

"At ease, lieutenant. There's no need for that."

"Follow me sirs," Kavanagh said, striding on ahead before they could acknowledge him.

"I thought you said you hadn't joined the services." Rodney whispered as he struggled with his case. Sheppard had a wheely one. Rodney wished he'd thought ahead and got something similar.

"No; as I recall I said it didn't work out. I'm retired."

Rodney snorted. "Aren't you a little young to retire?"

"I broke my wrist."

Rodney looked down at Sheppard's arm "It looks all right to me."

"Yeah, well it's all better now; but they don't let people with weak wrists fly. And if I couldn't fly any more there was no point me sticking around. Look, can we not get into this right now?" Sheppard smiled warily at Lt. Kavanagh who had turned around to see if his charges were following.

"I can't say you were being entirely honest," Rodney bristled.

"We've just met - forgive me for not giving you my entire life story."

"And you didn't tell me where you were heading. It was all subterfuge."

"Neither did you. If you're told something is secret most people don't go around broadcasting the situation.

"Do you know where we're going?" Rodney asked, concerned.

"Well, of course I do. "

"I have no idea," Rodney admitted.

Sheppard stopped wheeling suddenly, causing a mini pile up as Rodney ploughed into him. "You've agreed to go work for a secret organization and you've got no idea where you're going? Are you serious?"

"Deadly. And I don't know what I'm going to be doing either," Rodney admitted. He was beginning to doubt the wisdom of his decision.

Sheppard laughed, abruptly. "Priceless."

"What? They told you what you're going to be doing?"

"I don't agree to things unless I know what I'm getting into - usually," he smiled at Rodney, and looked him up and down before turning away. "Come on - we're going to lose Lt. Kavanagh if we don't get going."

 

The hotel was not far from the airport. Rodney wondered why an escort had been needed at all, but Kavanagh was still there, looking stern and sombre, guarding the door.

Rodney had a suite - an actual suite. Of course that joy was slightly marred by the discovery that he would be sharing it with Sheppard. For some reason somebody had got the idea they were travelling together. Which they were, kind of, even though it hadn't been planned. In fact, now he came to think about it - it was probably Sheppard's suite. Nobody had even thought to book him a room of his own. He was only there because the man had deigned to allow him to stay for some unknown reason.

Not that he was going to complain too loudly. He had no where else to go - and although it was only 3 in the afternoon, he desperately needed to sleep.

He flopped on the large, comfortable bed and fell into a deep doze immediately.

When he woke up it was dark outside and there was someone in the chair next to the bed. It took him a second to focus.

"You awake now?" Sheppard said cheerfully. "Lt. Kavanagh says we don't have to report to anyone until the morning. That means we can do whatever we like this evening. Great, huh?"

Rodney rubbed his eyes. "I don't really feel like doing anything. I need to prepare for tomorrow."

"What's to prepare? You don't even know why you're here."

"Which is precisely why I have to find a way to look competent in the morning. There's a lot riding on this."

"Just tell them about the squid - you'll be fine."

"I hardly think they've dragged me all the way to Washington to talk about marine life."

Sheppard stuck out his bottom lip and shrugged. "I'm just saying. I thought it was pretty interesting. And you're sure to impress Dr. Beckett."

"Dr. Beckett? Dr. Carson Beckett - you know him?" Rodney tried not to screech.

"Well he's the joint head of the science team - naturally they introduced us."

"Joint head... Wait, who's the other...? Oh, no... it can't be you. Say it's not you."

"I could take this chance to be mortally offended. But I'll forgive you since you'll probably be working under me. Or rather to the side of me. You'll be under Beckett, strictly speaking."

"What a disgusting thought." Rodney spluttered.

"The working under me part?" Sheppard looked disappointed for some reason Rodney couldn't quite fathom.

"The Carson Beckett part. The man's a leech."

"Leeches aren't mollusks are they?"

"No!"

"Just checking."

"But they are spineless, slimy and blood-sucking."Rodney almost spat.

"I think I prefer the squid."

"How did I not know this?" Rodney was up and pacing the room.

"They probably didn't think you'd sign on - if you really hate Dr. Beckett there's a chance they didn't want to risk you saying no. Your expertise could be pretty valuable."

"Really? You really think so?"

"Sure. I've read your notes - they need you onboard for this. Between you and me, I think Beckett is a little flaky."

"Yet they chose him to head the team."

"I think it's just because he discovered the weird gene thingy. That's what I heard. Only he's a little too close to the project seeing as he has it."

"Has what?"

"The weird gene thing."

"What does that mean - he's got some sort of disease? Is he going to die from it?" Rodney started to see the silver lining.

"No, he's not going to die."

"Oh." Rodney sat back down on the side of the bed. "What is the 'weird gene thingy' anyway?"

"Beats me. Not my thing. He kept going on about it though, so I assume it's important to something. "

"Oh, so you don't know everything." Rodney folded his arms smugly.

Sheppard grinned. "To tell you the truth I stopped paying attention right after they said I could fiddle with all the gadgets and fly a helicopter to the base camp."

"Give me strength." Rodney threw up his arms. "My new boss is Rainman."


	5. Five

Sheppard laughed slightly ruefully at the insult. Then he stopped and looked intently at Rodney. "You know - what happened last night..."

"I thought we'd established that nothing did."

"Yeah, about that. Do you remember anything at all? Only, last thing I recall is Dr. Ramirez giving me his crocodile smile and handing me that tequila. I'm pretty sure that was about 7:30. And I don't feel like I had eight hours sleep. That's a long time unaccounted for - so what happened? More importantly - how the hell did we wind up at your place?"

"I have no idea."

"And you can't remember a thing?" Sheppard narrowed his eyes at Rodney.

"I just told you that!" This was going round in circles.

"I can usually hold my liquor. And I don't make it a habit of waking up in strange people's beds. At least, not unless I intended to."

"Are you calling me strange?"

Sheppard inclined his head. "Well..." He drawled.

"We should go out and eat," Rodney said testily. "This discussion is getting ridiculous."

"You're hungry again?" Sheppard said incredulously.

"Of course I'm hungry again - aren't you? Do you obtain nutrients by osmosis or something?"

"OK - well do you want to order something up or go out?"

"Room service will be stupidly overpriced."

"I think we have an expense account."

"Well in that case we should definitely go out and make the most of it."

 

Dinner would have been better if Sheppard had not invited Lieutenant Kavanagh along.

The conversation was dominated by the officer's not-particularly-original theories on time travel.

"So I believe you really can go back in time and kill yourself," he insisted. "The paradoxes everyone always brings up - they're not relevant. You can kill yourself easily - it just means the 'you' that killed 'yourself' will still be alive. So you haven't really killed 'yourself', but you have; and you'll still be alive - even though you've killed 'yourself'."

"The multiverse," Sheppard nodded. He looked bored; as if he had had this discussion many times before. He started fiddling with a box of matches before suddenly perking up. "Hey here's a thought, Dr. McKay. Maybe those drinks weren't spiked - maybe we lost track of all that time because we went through a tiny wormhole. Maybe we got replaced by some other McKay and Sheppard; and they know what the hell happened."

"What happened when?" Kavanagh looked up from his spaghetti. Nobody answered him so he went back to his food.

"Yes, very funny. Let's have a laugh at the expense of the stupid biologist, why don't we?" Rodney picked up his glass and drank the wine down quickly.

"No - think about it: tequila... worms... wormholes. You like worms, don't you?" Sheppard grinned.

"Even I, with my limited knowledge of your oh so noble science, know that wormholes are not made by real worms. And worms are all right - but I wouldn't say I 'like' them."

"I think they're kind of cool. And if you believe in string theory, who's to say those little strings aren't really dancing worms? Microscopically vibrating happily - like they're having a little party." Sheppard slung an arm over the back of his chair and leaned back smugly.

Kavanagh snorted, and went on scooping up his pasta.

Rodney started tapping on the table. "I will not sit here listening to this... my scientific endeavors are just as valid as yours. Just because I..."

Sheppard winced. "They are, of course they are. I'm sorry, Dr. McKay, I was just having a little fun. Don't take it personally. Anyway, it is theoretically possible - we could have crossed the Einstein-Rosen Bridge last night." Sheppard raised his eyebrow and looked at Rodney expectantly. It was almost as though he was testing him.

"Not unless we were in the middle of a rotating black hole, and not unless we've suddenly shrunk to the size of an electron!" Rodney said angrily. Then he sat back, a little confused. "You know, I have absolutely no idea why I know what you're talking about, but I do. Most peculiar."

Sheppard smiled broadly. "Nah, you're a clever guy, you probably just picked it all up without noticing. You read a lot of science fiction as a kid?"

"Well, obviously." Rodney couldn't believe Sheppard would ask him a question that would have such a predictable answer.

"Everything you ever learned is wrong," Kavanagh said, as much to Sheppard as to Rodney.

The two scientists looked at Kavanagh, then at each other. Then they started to laugh.

"What's funny?" Kavanagh asked.

"I have no clue," Rodney admitted, happily, pouring more wine for himself and Sheppard.

"Me neither," Sheppard concurred. "It's not rocket science, though," he giggled.

 

The two of them staggered back to the hotel, accompanied by a sober Kavanagh.

Sheppard patted Kavanagh on the back. "You know, my friend, you're all right. If any one ever threatens to go back in time to shoot your grandfather they'll have me to answer to."

"That's very flattering, sir." Kavanagh did not sound convinced of Sheppard's sincerity.

"I agree - Kavanagh is the most erudite and charming marine I have ever met. Well done Lieutenant." Rodney patted his other arm.

Kavanagh said nothing, his face said it all.

 

During dinner he had already forgotten how impressive the hotel suite was - or maybe he was just tired enough and drunk enough to think everything was wonderful. Rodney had never had such a big, comfortable, luxurious living space before. Sheppard's bedroom was on the other side of the suite, with the shared living area between the two rooms.

Rodney wondered whether his bed was anywhere near as big as the one in his own room, but he didn't want to ask the man to show him, lest he get the wrong idea.

"I'm going to grab one of those peaches," Rodney said, eyeing the fruit basket which adorned the coffee table. It hadn't been there when they left.

"Take what you want - I don't mind. You don't need to ask permission." Sheppard said. "I'm going to head to bed now though. I'm beat." Sheppard stretched into a massive yawn. "'Night."

Rodney stayed up another hour or so to read the latest edition of Malacology Monthly (which he hadn't got round to reading on the plane). Then he retired to his own room.

In the middle of the night he got up to grab an apple or two before blearily making his way back to that big, impressive bed.

In the morning, when he awoke, he realized he was not exactly alone in the bed.

Sheppard opened his eyes and blinked at Rodney. "This is getting to be quite a habit," he said.


	6. Six

Rodney didn't make any sudden moves. "Uh... I think I took a wrong turn at Albuquerque he said."

"Yes, Bugs, that's obviously what happened." Sheppard coughed. "And now I am going to get dressed. Unless you have any more interesting ideas."

"Don't we have a meeting to get to?" Rodney said quickly.

"Yes, we have a meeting to get to. And while, if circumstances were different, I might want to blow the whole thing and... well, I think we should make an effort to get to the very important meeting first."

Rodney got out of Sheppard's very big bed – which did look remarkable like his own very big bed. How was he supposed to have known it wasn't? It had been dark and they were unfamiliar surroundings. Yes, left and right had always been a bit of a sticking point with him – but that wasn't something he tended to tell people. It was always all right as long as he had a compass or an anchor – unfortunately both seemed to be lacking in his life most of the time. Fortunately it wasn't usually an issue; if anyone ever noticed it was just passed off as eccentricity. Crazy, mad scientist being scatterbrained.

"I'll just go get my clothes... from the other room," Rodney said. Sheppard was looking at him funny, so he looked down. "They're just pajamas – most people sleep in them, you know," he insisted. Truthfully, he was more used to sleeping in a t-shirt, but he had bought the stripy pajamas specially for the trip.

"OK," Sheppard conceded, getting out of the bed . "I didn't think anyone over the age of seven or under seventy still did – I haven't seen that many lately, anyway. Clearly I've just been sleeping with a slightly different demographic up until now. At least they don't have cartoon snails on them. Or Spongebob Squarepants."

Rodney considered a sharp retort about Sheppard's choice of bed-clothes; but when he looked back up at the man he realized he wasn't actually wearing any. On reflection, yesterday's waking up together scene had been less embarrassing.

 

Lt. Kavanagh escorted them to the rendezvous, but left after he hustled them into the meeting room.

A short, nervous looking man got up to greet them.

"Hello again, Dr Sheppard, and very pleased to meet you at last, Dr. McKay. Your reputation precedes you." He shook Rodney's hand.

"Oh. Thank you – and you are?" He gave the man his most charming smile.

"Dr. Carson Beckett. I love the work you did on the Vetustodermis Planus," he smiled back, shyly.

"That wasn't me," Rodney pursed his mouth before continuing. "And as flattering as that is, far be it for me to claim someone else's work as my own." He looked at Dr Beckett pointedly.

"Excuse me," Beckett said, a little baffled. "I..."

Sheppard guided Rodney to a chair. "I think I should sit here," he said. "Between you and Dr. Beckett,"

Dr Beckett seemed to realize he had made a faux pas, but the bemused expression on his face suggested he didn't know how.

The three sat in silence as they waited for whoever was in charge of this briefing to arrive. They didn't have to wait long.

An efficient-looking woman wearing an air force uniform entered, accompanied by a doe-eyed sergeant carrying her papers – the three doctors all stood up. "Gentlemen, be seated." She nodded at them.

"General Weir, I trust you had a good journey," Dr. Beckett said, beaming at her.

"Dr. Beckett, Dr. Sheppard, glad you could make it. And I take it you are the Dr. McKay we've been hearing so much about," she smiled warmly at Rodney.

"All of it good, I trust," he said.

"Of course. Your career has been watched for quite some time."

"That sounds a little sinister," Rodney grimaced.

"Don't worry. It's not. The president himself personally recommended you."

"He did?" Rodney looked confused.

"Oh yes. Apparently he saw you in a documentary on the Discovery Channel. He was most impressed."

"Of course he was." Rodney gripped his pencil tightly.

"Yeah, I saw that. He was very good in it," Sheppard agreed.

"Oh - was that the one with the Giant African snails? That was fantastic. My mother and I watched it together. She even recorded it - she thought you looked very handsome, as I recall." Dr Beckett stared happily, open-mouthed at Rodney. "You know I didn't make the connection. Wait till I tell mother I met you She'll be thrilled."

Rodney looked at Beckett, slightly disgusted. Then he looked at Sheppard.

"Told you - it was really great," Shepard said. "I was considering getting it on DVD."

"Oh goody - I have a fanbase. I wonder if I have groupies too. Maybe Mrs Beckett would like to try her luck with me." Rodney breathed deeply.  
Dr Beckett blushed at that and Sheppard was clearly trying not to laugh.

"If we could just move along. There's a lot to discuss," Weir said firmly. "Sergeant Markham, could you hand me the papers on the Alcubierre Key Project."

"Alburquerque project?" Rodney said, somewhat mystified perplexed. Deja vu was becoming all too common the last few days.

"She's talking about a warp drive, Dr. McKay. You know, like in Star Trek," Sheppard said helpfully.

"Oh. Yes. I knew that," Rodney bristled. In truth he did not know that at all. He wrinkled his nose. "May I ask, why do you need biologists to build a warp drive?"

General Weir looked a little embarrassed. "We don't. Not exactly. We need your help for an ancillary project."

"Is this about my gene?" Dr. Beckett asked, enthusiastically. "I can..."

"Yes, Dr. Beckett, it's about your gene," Weir said wearily.

Sheppard leaned over and whispered in McKay's ear. "You know if this all gets a little complicated I could explain it to you as we go along."

Rodney gave him the death glare he usually reserved for his most annoyingly recalcitrant students.

"What was that Dr. Sheppard?" Weir looked up from her papers and leaned forward in her chair.

"Nothing, General, I was giving Dr. McKay a recap of a few details he might have missed."

"Do you need me to fill you in, Dr. McKay?" Weir looked concerned.

"No. Dr Sheppard has done a pretty good job, I'm sure," Rodney said, through gritted teeth.


	7. Seven

Kavanagh accompanied them back to the hotel. The return journey was almost silent, except for a few sighs and under-the-breath grumbles from Rodney.

Once back at the suite, the floodgates opened. "I can't believe I have to work with that man - and that I'm only here because of that stupid show." Rodney strode over to the couch and threw himself down on it.

"If you mean Dr. Beckett - I thought he was pretty nice. And I keep saying, it was a good show. Especially the bit with the animatronic clams." Dr. Sheppard closed the door behind them.

"I think they were CGI."

Rodney shook his head in disbelief. He was locked into working with people he already hated, with a boss he had already slept with - twice - and, more than likely, an obligation to keep churning out more oh-so-exciting research about snails. And probably make more TV shows about them too.

And he still wasn't sure what exactly the job entailed. Probably something about biodiversity and global warming, which, he supposed, might lead to some interesting job offers in the future. Something that might have even yielded a Nobel Prize if they actually bothered to give biologists anything in those damn awards. Both Sheppard and Carson would be eligible if they ever did anything noteworthy. Life just wasn't fair.

He did know that Antarctica was likely to be freezing, though.

"I just wish they would tell me more," he wailed. "I mean, am I only onboard to baby sit Beckett?"

"Of course not," Sheppard assured him. "You're the top guy in your field. You're a valuable asset."

"So you know what I'm going to be doing?" Rodney looked at him expectantly.

"No. I'm afraid not. Anyway, even if it does turn out your job is to make sure Dr. Beckett doesn't screw up - you can think of yourself as the wing man."

"The wing man? What, is that some sort of Top Gun reference?"

"If you like." Sheppard walked over to the fruit bowl and pulled out a pear, which he proceeded to bite into. Rodney was transfixed for a second, though he managed to recover himself quickly.

He looked away. "And I'll have to buy a whole new wardrobe - I didn't pack for snow."

"Hey - I love shopping, I could help you choose."

"You love shopping?" Rodney pulled an incredulous face. "Nobody loves shopping - nobody I know anyway."

"Except for me."

"I need to take a nap. This is all too much." Rodney stretched himself out on the couch and closed his eyes tightly.

"All right. Well I'll go take a bath while you're doing that. I'm still feeling kind of sticky."

"Sticky?" Rodney blinked. "Wh... why are you sticky?"

"It's a hot day, Dr. McKay. Very hot." Sheppard raised an eyebrow. "I trust that I won't find you unaccountably in my bed again when I get out of the bath."

"It was a perfectly natural mistake - human error. The second time anyway."

"Of course it was," Sheppard shut the bathroom door.

 

He wasn't as sleepy as he thought. Every time he closed his eyes he started to think of Dr. Sheppard. The fact that the man was only a few feet away - albeit behind a locked door - naked and steamy and singing to himself (some song about walking the line) wasn't helping.

Rodney decided to go for a walk to distract himself.

Lt Kavanagh was just outside. "Where are you going, sir?" He asked - not quite barring the way ahead.

"I just need some fresh air. Surely that's allowed?" Rodney replied, trying not to snap.

"I have instructions to make sure you're accounted for," Kavanagh insisted.

"Accounted for? That's ridiculous."

"I'm sorry, sir. I have my orders."

Rodney glared at him. "I need to go downstairs... To get a ... sandwich," he said.

"I'll have someone bring one up for you."

"Aren't you a little senior to be working as a busboy-cum-security guard?" Rodney cocked his head.

Kavanagh's mouth twitched. "I'm just doing what General Weir ordered."

Rodney snorted, but turned to go back inside. He wasn't sure he liked General Weir all that much anymore. "And I'll have turkey and swiss cheese on rye. Separately and together. Maybe on white bread too. Oh, and get them to send up a few chicken salad. Is Dr. Sheppard a vegetarian I wonder? Better get some for him, I suppose. Maybe some egg salad too."

As he went back inside said Dr. Sheppard was just coming out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist and another in his hand.

"Oh. You're out of there. Just getting some sandwiches sent up."

"I hope you got enough for me."

"Possibly."

Sheppard sat on the couch and started to dry his hair with the second towel. "We should get a hairdryer sent up too," he said. "The one in there's broken. It gave me an electric shock."

"Are you all right?" Rodney asked.

"Oh yeah - I'm fine. Just can't dry my hair properly with just a towel," he grinned. "You know I am a little disappointed."

"Why's that?"

"I thought you might have completely disregarded what I said."

"Disregarded?"

"You know - the thing about not finding you in my bed again."

"Oh."

"I just thought a little reverse psychology..."

There was a knock on the door. Rodney quickly turned to look in that direction. "Uh... Who is it?" He asked nervously.

"Room service. You ordered some sandwiches," a female voice said.

"Of course. You'd... you'd better come in."

A trolley laden with sandwiches was wheeled in, pushed by a maid and followed by Kavanagh.

Sheppard stood up. "That's a lot of sandwiches," he said, almost in awe.

"Yes - uh, Kavanagh - do you want some before you leave?" Rodney said brightly.  
Wordlessly the lieutenant picked up an egg salad on white bread. He stared at Rodney, then turned his head, sneering ever so slightly at the towel-clad Sheppard.

"Goodnight, sirs," he said tightly, before going.

When he had gone, Sheppard clapped his hands together. "Ah, that's good. Where were we again? Ah yes, we were just talking about psychology." He beamed at Rodney, before grabbing a turkey salad sandwich, taking a big bite and winking lasciviously.

Rodney gulped. "I should have something to eat first ... keep my strength up."

"Uh huh" Sheppard said. His mouth still full of sandwich.


	8. Eight

At breakfast Rodney couldn't stop smiling. He had a great new job and it was a great new day and everything was wonderful. He might have even seen a few bluebirds flitting outside the window that morning.

Of course he still had no clue what was going on, but that was still all to the good. Maybe he needed a little more uncertainty in his life.

Before he could have a third cup of coffee, breakfast was cut short by the arrival of a missive from General Weir. She had demanded to see him and Dr. Sheppard urgently. It couldn't wait, so she had decamped to the hotel, sequestering a conference room and posting several very large, intimidating guards at the door. Dr. Beckett was already in the room when Rodney and Sheppard entered. He was clearly about to get up and greet them when Weir sat down and started speaking.

"Something's come up. We need to leave today," she said.

"I thought the flight was next week," John looked concerned. He glanced over to Rodney.

"It was, but the scientists we have sent ahead have discovered something that needs our urgent attention."

"Is it snail-related?" Rodney asked.

"Why would it be snail-related?" Weir peered at him.

"Well, it's just... With my specialism... "

"You think we need you because you know about snails?" Weir asked, astonished. "No. We need you to head up the research division of the biological science department."

Which answered nothing, as far as Rodney could see.

"Hang on a minute, Elizabeth - I thought that was my job," Dr Beckett protested. "It is my gene..."

"This is all beside the point, gentlemen," she said harshly.

"I think what Rodney and Dr. Beckett are trying to establish, General Weir, and with all due respect, is: what exactly are any of us doing here?"

"Hah! I knew you were lying when you said you knew what you were letting yourself in for!" Rodney said triumphantly.

"Well, it doesn't pay to play your cards too soon, Rodney. You have to know when to hold them..."

Dr. Beckett put his hand up. "May I say something here, General Weir? I was led to believe that it was my project, based on my research."

"Well in a way it was, Dr. Beckett, but we needed a few different perspectives. And just yesterday we found the breakthrough we had been searching for." She paused. They all looked at her expectantly. "It means the Alcubierre Key Project may just be made redundant, but potentially it also opens up a whole world - actually a whole galaxy - of new possibilities." She looked at them, awaiting a suitably awed response, but was met with two blank stares and a curled lip.

Sheppard turned to Rodney. "You know I think I was right about the alternate universe thing - because this universe has ceased to make any kind of sense anymore. Not that it doesn't have some interesting plus points...," he smirked.

Rodney smirked back as he realized Sheppard was trying to play footsie with him under the table.

"It's The Twilight Zone," Rodney nodded.

"Not the response I was expecting," General Weir admitted.

"Maybe we should see whatever this is for ourselves," Dr. Beckett said quietly. There was a note of disappointment in his voice. Rodney felt a little sorry for him, in spite of everything. He wasn't getting the feeling of glee he usually did when his enemies were vanquished or their theories disproved.

"I've taken the liberty of providing you all with suitable clothing," General Weir said.

"Shame. I was looking forward to that shopping trip," Sheppard looked at Rodney and was met by a weary eye roll. "What? I'm just saying."

"We'll send a car to pick you up at 1400 hours. Be ready." Weir got up to leave. "You are at liberty until then."

"She likes the word 'liberty' a lot," Rodney whispered as she left. "Made it sound a little ominous though, didn't she? And 1400 hours - that's, what, 4 O'clock?"

"Add five to nine, Rodney. It's not complicated." Sheppard dipped his head.

"Yes, that's definitely 14."

"So it's in five hours time," Sheppard spoke slowly, as though to a very slow child.

"Oh. Well that's after lunch at least."

Dr. Beckett was still there hovering uncertainly by the door. "Do you gentlemen mind if I hang out with you for a while? I saw mother off to the airport this morning and I'm at a loose end until it's time to leave. They already sent all my stuff ahead. I wanted them to let me bring her along, but they weren't having any of it."

"You wanted to bring your mother to a secret mission?" Rodney said, bemused.

"Well she does have the gene too, and I haven't found that many others who have. We need all the bodies we can get."

"Ain't that the truth," Sheppard said, earning a look of pique from Rodney. "Everybody needs somebody," Sheppard clarified.

"Quite. They wouldn't give her security clearance though. Apparently mother had quite a wild youth - you wouldn't think it look at her." He chuckled fondly to himself.

"So this gene is rare is it? Is it possible that, say, I have it?" Rodney hoped not - if it gave the bearer some sort of painful condition he could do without it. He had enough of them already to be going on with.

"Och, no. Well, that's not to say it isn't possible - just extremely unlikely."

"So what is it anyway - do you get, like, extra toes or the ability to bend your joints in new and unusual ways?" Sheppard asked. "Because that'd be kind of cool."

"Well it doesn't actually do an awful lot, to tell you the truth. I haven't found any practical applications myself - but the military was very interested in my research so I presume they have some use for it."

"So you have a useless gene that hardly anyone else has that does absolutely nothing," Rodney folded his arms.

"Well, in a manner of speaking, I suppose... yes," Dr. Beckett looked hurt. "I spent five years researching it."

"Well, isn't that a coincidence." Rodney definitely wanted to see this paper now. He had been told it was similar to his (rejected) theories, but right after he finished his thesis all his notes and supporting evidence had been confiscated by the university. Taken away. They wouldn't let him have any of it back. He hadn't been able to read Dr. Beckett's work to compare it with his because that had also disappeared from public view - he was told it was classified when he tried to access it on the university database.

"Why is it a coincidence?" Beckett frowned.

Rodney had to admit the man did seem to have no idea of the part he'd played in ruining his life.


	9. Nine

Rodney was thrown. "We came up with the same ideas at the same time. That's why I've been forced to study mollusks for the past 15 years. Do you think I actually like gastropods? It's all your fault," he blurted.

"The same ideas? Did we? That's very odd. I only discovered the gene five years ago, mind, so they must be some other ideas." Dr. Carson looked at him wide-eyed.

"Why you..." Rodney bit his lip. He felt Sheppard's hand on his arm, but made no move to shake it off.

"Rodney, is it possible this really is all some terrible misunderstanding?" Sheppard said soothingly.

Rodney slumped down into a chair dejectedly. He put his head in his hands. Sheppard sat beside him.

"Maybe it would be best if you left," Rodney said, listlessly.

"Who, me?" Sheppard asked.

"No. You can stay." He forced a weak smile. "Dr. Beckett, while I'm sure your company would be delightful under other circumstances, I need to stop talking to you now."

"Aye. I think that'd be right," Beckett said. He coughed. "Righty ho, I suppose I'll see you this afternoon then." He turned on his heel and left briskly.

"I've blamed him for everything. For years," Rodney said quietly when Beckett was out of earshot. "It's what's helped me get through it all."

"I know what you mean - if you can't blame anyone but yourself, what are you going to do? Been there done that..." Sheppard patted Rodney's hand. It was a comradely gesture, but more intimate than it would have been from someone else. "We could still go shopping."

Rodney laughed. "I really don't think so."

"And hey, things could be worse - you could have chosen to study fungi."

Rodney let that pass. "You know - I can still blame him."

"Would that make you happy?"

"Yes. Well, no... maybe."

Sheppard grinned at him.

"OK," Rodney continued, "Maybe not."

Sheppard looked as his watch. An over-sized thing that dwarfed his supposedly weak wrist. "You know it must almost be our 48 hour anniversary."

Rodney shook his head, mournfully. "You're rather more sappy than I thought."

Sheppard nodded happily in assent. "We should celebrate."

"Celebrate you being sickeningly sentimental?"

"Yes. Why not? Let's go find a ferris wheel and take a ride."

"Is that a euphemism?"

"Well I did mean let's find an actual ferris wheel - but if you want it to be a euphemism I am more than up for that."

"Wait a minute, when are you counting from anyway?"

"Well..." John moved closer, but a knock on the door interrupted whatever might have happened. A small, bespectacled man in a crumpled suit entered.

"Oh, excuse me for intruding. I was just looking for General Weir. I was told her meeting was over and I was hoping to catch her here." He smiled apologetically.

"She left a few minutes ago," John said.

"Oh. Fine. I will be on my way... she didn't say she would be back?"

"No. She didn't. Sorry. Is there anything we can do to help?" John said, seemingly oblivious to Rodney's huff of impatience.

"No, no. I will find her - she won't go without me." The man smiled again and left.

"Hmm. I wonder what that was about," Rodney turned to John.

"He looked vaguely familiar. It'll probably come to me when I least expect it. Probably not important," John shrugged.

"So... Going back a bit: 48 hours -Why? I would have started counting from the actual getting together thing - which would be barely 12 hours."

"Not very romantic, are you?" John grinned.

"Not especially."

"The plane. I'm counting from the plane taking off," he explained.

"When I passed out?"

"Yep."

"That's the most ridiculous thing ever.Why not from the second Dr. Ramirez spiked our drinks?"

"Well now, we don't know he really did."

"Well of course he did. And this ridiculous discussion has cut into our time. We have less than four hours until we leave."

"We could just go back to the room."

That sounded like a very good idea to Rodney. He grabbed one of the pastries that had gone uneaten during the brief meeting and followed John into the nearest elevator. Before it closed the bespectacled man from the meeting room rushed in through the door breathlessly.

"Oh good, I caught you before you went back up," he said. "I caught up with Elizabeth before she left. She told me who you both were, it's a pleasure to finally meet you," he grabbed Rodney's hand in both of his and shook vigorously before moving onto John and doing the same. "We will be working together." Rodney noticed the man had the barest trace of a European accent of some sort.

"Dr. McKay - it was I who came up with the cover story for your university."

"The Czech snails thing?" Rodney asked.

"Yes - my home country. I haven't been back for so long. I sometimes wonder what my life would have been if my parents hadn't left before the Communist occupation." The man shook his head and sighed. "Probably would never have met Elizabeth."

"You often tell strangers your life story?" Rodney had a feeling they were not going to make it back to the room after all.

"What? I..." The man seemed nonplussed.

"Pleased to meet you," Sheppard interrupted. "You're Radek Zelenka aren't you - I recognize you from the cover of Time Magazine. Must be a buzz to be made Man of the Year." He shook his hand again. Muttering under his breath, "Rodney, play nice, this is the head of the CIA."


	10. Ten

Zelenka acted as though he hadn't heard Sheppard's comment, but it was loud enough that he must have.

"I believe we have mutual acquaintances, Dr. Sheppard." He pushed his glasses higher up.

"We do?" Sheppard wrinkled his nose.

"Oh yes - I believe you served under General Maybourne at one point. He still talks about you," Zelenka smiled a strange smile.

"He does? Can't say he ever had anything good to say about me at the time."

"No." Zelenka said, without further elaboration. "Oh, and Major Davis sends his regards."

"Paul? Oh." Sheppard looked oddly guilty at that. "How is he?"

"As well as can be expected. Living in Aruba; has a small bed and breakfast. My ex-wife and I visited a few months ago, just before our divorce. Charming place."

"Well, I must say it's nice that everyone knows each other already," Rodney said, with a tone that implied he meant nothing of the sort.

"Ah, I have heard so much about you as well, Dr. McKay. Your reputation precedes you."

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" Rodney said, a little exasperated.

The elevator door opened. "Oh, Hello, I was just wandering around the hotel to kill some time," Dr. Beckett said cheerfully. "I'm not interrupting anything am I? Are you gentlemen going up?"

"Well we're definitely not going down," Rodney said bitterly.

"Oh, that's good. Do you mind if I join you for the ride?" Dr. Beckett got in before anyone could answer.

"You must be Dr. Carson Beckett," Zelenka smiled broadly. "Elizabeth speaks most highly of you. She tells me you have been extremely accommodating - allowing her team full access to your research."

"Och, yes, well, they seemed so friendly," Beckett said. "And they didn't really give me any choice."

"Well, I just wanted to introduce myself," Zelenka shook the three doctors' hands in turn. The elevator ground to a halt on floor 13, the doors opening with a sharp jerk. "I believe this is my floor. I may see you gentlemen later." And with that he left.

The doors closed again.

"So, have you got a lovely morning planned - enjoying your last few hours of absolute freedom. And warmth?" Dr. Beckett asked.

"Not so much," Rodney admitted.

"So are you all packed and sorted, even?"

"More or less. Um, changing the subject slightly, Dr. Beckett, I don't suppose anyone clued you into what's actually going on here, did they?" Sheppard wondered. "Only, I thought I had it figured out; but now ... not so much."

"Well, as I understood it there is an international expedition to Antarctica - which as you know has no sole owner and is pretty much a free state - to investigate and develop new biological, chemical and... um... physical... applications for.... No, I don't actually know what's going on. I must admit it's all got a bit out of my league. I should probably never have let them take away my original doctoral thesis in the first place. Who knows where my life would have led if I hadn't had to come up with something else that wasn't a 'threat to the security of the entire world'. I never did quite see how that worked. Sorry, I'm just babbling now. Force of habit. If you were woken at two in the morning and forced to leave behind your house and friends and all you knew, you'd probably get a bit peculiar about certain sensitive questions. I don't think mother has ever recovered from it. She was still in her nighty when they dragged her out of her bed."

"They dragged her out of bed?" Sheppard said, appalled. "That's terrible."

Rodney was silently brooding about the implications.

"Obviously I can't go into detail." Dr. Beckett turned around and back again then whispered, "You never know who's watching and listening."

The elevator door opened once more and a statuesque woman carrying a small dog got in. The three doctors said nothing.

"Is this lift going to the foyer?" She asked in an English accent.

"Um, sure," Sheppard said.

"Aye, it is, madam," Dr. Beckett smiled at the woman and reached out to stroke the dog.

"Oh, that's a cute wee doggy, what's its name?" He asked. The dog yapped at him and he pulled away.

"Please don't touch my dog," she said. "He doesn't like strange men."

They reached the lobby and the woman stepped out, sneering at Beckett as she left. Beckett looked down to the ground then turned to Sheppard and Rodney. "I think I'll go for a walk outside then. See you later. Oh, and Dr. Sheppard - I may need you to touch some things for me later. You too, Dr. McKay. Although I doubt very much anything will come of it. It hasn't so far... with anyone. Cheerio."

The two men turned to each other and raised their eyebrows in almost mirror-perfect expressions of disbelief.

"Talking of which - are we going to try again?" Rodney asked from the corner of his mouth.

"I've sort of lost the will to attempt it. Something else is bound to go wrong," Sheppard replied. "Although ... rain check." He smiled coyly.

They made no move to leave the elevator and the doors stayed open.

In the lobby a group of women of a certain age, wearing shorts, sunglasses, fanny packs and identical peaked red baseball caps appeared, whispering and giggling to each other. They all had tee-shirts that proclaimed them as 'Sisters of the Dallas Texans' with the additional slogan, 'football where it all began'.

Sheppard turned to Rodney and breathed sharply through his nose. "Rodney, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore," he said, grabbing both his shoulders.

"Were we ever?" Rodney was confused.

Sheppard hit the button to close the elevator doors. "That didn't strike you as weird?" He thrust a finger towards the closed doors

"The little old ladies?" Rodney shrugged. "Well it was a bit odd I suppose. I've never really seen the appeal of football myself."

"I'm going to let that pass, just this once. The Dallas Texans haven't been called the Dallas Texans since 1963."

"Really? Well, they were all quite old."

"They're the Kansas City Chiefs now - they moved to Kansas City years ago."

"Oh, I see. Hence the allusion. So they're based in Kansas now?"

"In Missouri, Rodney." Sheppard said irritably - as though Rodney was supposed to know that. Why call it Kansas City of it wasn't even going to have the good grace to be in Kansas?

"Don't you see?" Sheppard continued. "This is all wrong."

"Well, yes. I agree with you: a load of women supporting a strange game with oddly shaped balls that they can't even take part in, wandering around a Washington, DC. hotel wearing peculiar costumes with slogans that declare their loyalty to a team that doesn't even exist any more is a bit bizarre - but what's your point?" He chuckled to himself and turned to Sheppard who, he couldn't help noticing, looked a little pained.


	11. Eleven

"You don't know anything about football? It's practically the national game," Sheppard said, with some distress.

"Not my national game, I'm from Canada. We have lacrosse," Rodney shrugged. "Although I don't know why."

"You're Canadian?" Sheppard looked at him, horrified.

"Yes, I'm Canadian - of course I am. You have a problem with Canadians?"

"Only the fact we've been at war with Canada for the past forty years. Did you defect or something?  
Rodney stared at him. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Are you a spy?"

"Yes, I'm a spy. I've seduced you so I can learn the secrets of your decadent country - don't be ridiculous, of course I'm not a spy. Do I look like a spy to you?"

Sheppard narrowed his eyes. "Well..."

"Anyway, it's not as if you'd know anything relevant to anyone's national security," Rodney scoffed. "And what's this nonsense about a war. Canada's not at war with anyone. That's just about the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Switzerland's got nothing on us."

"That's true - those Swiss are warmongers. I wouldn't like to live in one of their occupied territories, that's for sure."

Rodney was momentarily lost for words. He felt dizzy all of a sudden. "Uh... Excuse me. I need to sit on the floor of this elevator." He squatted down and rested against the mirrored back wall, his hands in his head. After a few seconds he felt Sheppard sidle up against him.

"Canada's really not at war with us, is it?" He asked weakly.

"No."

"Well football has gone wrong too. I think something really did happen that night." Sheppard sighed. "And I can't see Major Paul Davis running a bed and breakfast in Aruba either, if truth be known."

"If you say so." Rodney just wanted to go back to bed.

"At least there are some things that I like about wherever we are."

Rodney felt Sheppard's hand grasp his, and acquiesced as he was pulled up to his feet.

"I know this is going to sound really pathetic, but I could do with a hug right about now," Rodney said.

"Uh, OK," Sheppard replied and awkwardly obliged. Considering what else they had got up to it was a particularly unemotional hug. He pulled away.

"That wasn't great, was it?" Rodney's lips curled into a lop-sided frown.

"Well, I have a lot on my mind. I think I might be in the wrong universe for a start."

"But you were at that party, you worked at the university for nearly a year. I know we never spoke, but I definitely heard people talking about you. My lab technician Petra had a crush. Surely you would have noticed you were in the wrong universe at some point before today." Rodney wasn't buying any of this nonsense. If Sheppard wanted to break up, already, then he didn't need to lie quite this much.

"No, I was at that party because Dr. Ramirez told me to come. I hadn't set foot in the place up until then."

"What are you saying Petra liked some other Dr. John Sheppard - that all those stories about the dashing, Sonic-the-Hedgehog-haired wonder physicist were coincidentally about some other dashing, Soni...?"

"Yes. That's what I'm saying. I've been abroad."

"Or committed." Rodney folded his arms.

"But you were on the Discovery channel talking about snails. So at least that's a constant."

"Oh thank goodness for that - I was afraid maybe I wasn't doomed to study invertebrates in every dimension."

Sheppard looked as though he was on the verge of pouting. "I am telling the truth."

"No you're not."

The pout turned into a sly half-smile. "Busted. Although the football thing was weird."

Rodney sighed. "That was very weak."

"Funny though." Sheppard grabbed his arm and pulled him into a kiss. Rodney could hear the whoosh of the elevator doors opening.

"Oh, I... I... sorry, gentlemen." The doors closed again.

Rodney broke away from the kiss. "That was Carson Beckett, wasn't it?" He grimaced.

"Yes I believe it was."

"Is this, perhaps, one of those hidden camera shows?"

"No. But there may be a camera hidden in the elevator. Behind the mirrors." Sheppard grinned.

"Hmm. We should probably just go get something to eat before we leave."

Rodney bustled out of the elevator, leaving Sheppard standing slightly dazed behind him. "We meaning 'me too?'"

Rodney turned around. "Yes, you too. Just because you are evidently a terrible practical joker doesn't mean I can't have an early lunch with you." He narrowed his eyes "As long as the kissing and...such... was for real. It was wasn't it?"

Sheppard nodded.

"Good good," Rodney said.

 

While they waited for the waiter Sheppard peered nervously at the football ladies at the next table. "I still think that's peculiar." He glanced over to them.

"Perhaps you should ask them if they're old-school fans," Rodney said, ever practical. "There's bound to be a simple explanation."

"Nah. You're right," Sheppard shook his head. "Besides, they look scary. I don't really want to ask them anything."

Just as the appetizers were served, Dr. Beckett came into the restaurant, carrying a small briefcase. Rodney waved at him, and Beckett smiled nervously back.

"Hey, Beckett, join us," Rodney shouted towards the entrance.

Beckett looked embarrassed, but started walking towards them anyway. "Hello again. I trust you two are well. The weather outside is clement."

"Oh. Is it?" Rodney said. "That's great. Have you been studying some sort of English as a second language tape, by any chance?"

Beckett blushed and sat down. "No. Just making small talk."

"Dr. Sheppard was trying to explain something about American football to me, but he wasn't doing a very good job. I don't suppose you know anything about obscure mid-western teams do you?"

"Och, no. That sort of football is all a bit of a mystery to me," Beckett admitted.

"Yes. So none of us know. I'm inclined to believe Dr. Sheppard has ingested something which hasn't agreed with him."

Sheppard coughed and looked down at his plate. "Well, I don't know about that," he smiled sheepishly.

"Really? Well I could run some tests," Beckett said, helpfully.

"No. I'm sure that won't be necessary." Rodney picked up a spoonful of avocado and put it into his mouth. A few seconds later he started wheezing.

Beckett jumped up and grabbed him. "Is he allergic to anything – do you know?" He asked Sheppard.

"Um. I think he said lemon..."

Beckett opened his briefcase and took out a syringe.  
"OK. So it was a bit stupid to have avocado, really. Well, let's hope you're right," he said before pulling Rodney to his feet, yanking down his pants and plunging the needle into his thigh.

There was an audible gasp from the old football ladies.

"Do you need me to give him the kiss of life again?" Sheppard asked hopefully.


	12. Twelve

As Carson assured him that the kiss of life would not be necessary, Sheppard instead settled for holding Rodney's hand while he lay on the restaurant floor recovering.

"Ideally I'd like to get him to a hospital, but I know we're expected to fly later, so I... .Of course that's not a great idea in itself."Carson tutted.

"Will he be OK by then?" Sheppard asked, concerned.

A football lady came over to check if they were all right. "He reminds me of my grandson," she said. "He's very delicate too."

"I'm not delicate." Rodney protested weakly. "Just allergic." He moaned. "Honestly, I'll be all right to fly." He sat up jerkily, batting Sheppard away.

"I wanted to ask," Sheppard said to the football lady before she moved away, "Are those slogans significant? I mean, that team doesn't exist any more does it, not in that way?"

"It most certainly does," she said, offended. She leaned in conspiratorially, "The coach is on a layover on the way to the AFL game against The Boston Patriots. My grandson Kenny, he's not the delicate one, he's the star quarter back - you must have heard of him."

"No, can't say I have. Thanks for your help ma'am, we appreciate it," he gave her a curt little nod and she wandered away, looking little hurt that he didn't know her grandson.  
As soon as she went Sheppard said, in a ragged whisper, "OK, we have a problem."

"Yes, but I can handle it - it's not the first time I've had a reaction and I doubt it'll be the last," Rodney said, struggling to get his pants back on.

"Well yeah, that's a problem too - it's not what I meant. I'm definitely starting to think I was on to something with the wormhole theory." Sheppard glanced over to Carson who was looking at them both with a worried frown. "He will be OK then, Doc?"

"Oh, right as rain I shouldn't wonder.That syringe didn't just have adrenaline in it," he winked and tapped his nose. "It's a special formula I've been working on - combination therapy. Not really tested on humans, or actually animals, if truth be known, but..."

"What? You've stuck me with some bizarre experimental drug? What's wrong with you?" Rodney glared at Beckett.

"Well, you're all better now, aren't you? So evidently it worked."

"Not to interrupt this thrilling discussion, but guys, I really do think we have a problem. Something's off." Sheppard helped Rodney to his feet.

"Oh please, is this about the at war with Canada thing again, because you cried wolf once before, and nobody's going to buy it this time." Rodney grabbed Sheppard's arm to steady himself.

"I'm sorry about that - but this is for real this time. Maybe if I clicked my ruby slippers together three times and said 'there's no place like home' it would all be OK again, but..."

"Your ruby slippers? Made of genuine corundum, I suppose? Wouldn't that be rather uncomfortable?" Rodney scoffed.

"Dorothy, Rodney. The Wizard of Oz. You must have the Wizard of Oz in Canada."

"Wouldn't someone called the wizard of Oz be more likely to reside in Australia?" Rodney shook his head, pityingly.

"That's very funny, Dr. McKay," Beckett smiled. "I never thought of it like that. Australia." He chuckled to himself. "I could never watch that film as a child - the first time I saw it my mother had to take me out of the cinema. I started screaming when the Wicked Witch of the West appeared."

"See, Beckett knows what I'm talking about. If they had it in Scotland, they definitely had it in Canada. And you can't honestly tell me you don't know who Judy Garland was."

"I honestly have no clue what you're wittering about," Rodney insisted.

"It's worse than I thought!" Sheppard exclaimed.

 

There wasn't time for any more lunch. A fact that had escaped their notice until Lt. Kavanagh appeared at the door of the restaurant looking for them.

Rodney, still a little unsteady on his feet and clinging to Sheppard, noticed the tall marine first - he was the only one who didn't have his back to the door.

Lt. Kavanagh glanced at Sheppard's arm then to Rodney, his disapproval not very well disguised. "You were supposed to be waiting in your rooms," he said as he approached them.

"We were talking with the head of the CIA," Rodney protested. "What was his name - Zonka or something?"

"Zelenka," Sheppard said quietly. Rodney couldn't help but notice the man seemed unaccountably distraught. "A world without Munchkins," he said sadly.

"Well, anyway, I've been sent to collect you. It's time to go," Lt. Kavanagh said.

"I don't suppose you know anything about football. Or L. Frank Baum?" Sheppard asked him.

He looked baffled, "The guy who wrote The Wizard of Oz? Not particularly," Kavanagh shrugged.

"Both of us then," Sheppard turned to Rodney, wide-eyed and excited. "Just you and me!"

Rodney looked around a little skittishly. "Well, if you mean what I think you mean then yes just you and me, I'm not keen on having an audience. That's a little too kinky. Although this is hardly the time or the place anyway - I'm not feeling one hundred per cent. I mean, hello, anaphylactic shock."

"Neither of us is meant to be here," Sheppard gestured around the room.

"And yet we are." Rodney admitted. He was starting to have serious doubts about Sheppard's sanity. It was typical - and probably not unexpected. After all everything had happened so fast and seemed to be going so well. There was bound to be a great big rock in the road.

"Yes, we are. It's astonishing. And it must have happened that night. It would explain everything. " Sheppard looked at Rodney, his eyes shining. "I need to write this down somewhere - has anyone got any paper?"

Rodney nodded slowly and gave Sheppard his patented 'calm the mad person down so they don't hurt you' smiles. "Yes, I'm sure I have some somewhere," he said precisely and carefully, patting Sheppard's arm. "Or maybe Dr. Beckett has some in his nice big case full of syringes." He looked at Beckett meaningfully.

"No, I don't have any paper. Just some experiments I've been working on," Beckett said, confused. " and some tranquilizers."

"Maybe Dr. Sheppard would like some of that then," Rodney said pointedly.

"Oh no, I couldn't do that," Beckett said. "Not without a prescription."


	13. Thirteen

Sheppard gripped Rodney's arm tighter.

"I'm not crazy, Rodney. You and I don't belong here - something has happened and I need to find out what." He looked sincere. Rodney felt himself melting into believing something inexplicable was going on - or at least that Sheppard thought there was something going on.

"This has something to do with the football wizard?" He wanted to inject scorn into his tone, but he was feeling weak, and besides he couldn't deny that things were feeling off - about everything.

Carson interrupted. "Oh crap."

Sheppard and Rodney spun around to look at him.

"Don't get mad at me, but I think I might have given you the wrong syringe, Dr. McKay."

"The wrong... ? But I feel fine."

"Yes, well, they all have adrenaline in them - I find it's a good emollient, and it helps the body absorb the active ingredients better - but this particular one, it had... it had.... Well let's just say it has the potential to alter your body chemistry."

"Let's further say what the hell it actually does," Rodney yelped. "You haven't turned me into a giant insect....or a woman... Have you?"

"Oh. No ... nothing like that. That would be ridiculous... . It's just my gene therapy. I haven't had the chance to use it in laboratory conditions even, yet ...so..."

"So what exactly does that mean?" Sheppard interjected.

"Well, I don't know. As I said, I haven't found any practical applications for the gene. In fact the only thing I've been able to do that nobody else has been able to is light up a tiny device the military sent to me. It looks like a baby's rattle. I don't know what it does apart from that."

"This device - was it small and sort of emerald green - had a little point on one end?" Sheppard asked.

"Why yes, how did you know?"

"I got sent one too. It came by registered mail a few days ago. Mine did more than light up for me though - made a strange bleeping noise, tingled. Felt like it sent a jolt of electricity up my arm." Sheppard looked at Rodney intently, "I had it in my pocket at that party."

Beckett looked a little put out. "Yours made noises too? But, wait a minute... That must mean."

"We need to go, sirs, the car is waiting to take you to our destination," Kavanagh said peevishly.

Sheppard swung Rodney towards him and looked at him. "I just had a thought, Rodney - what if it was a personal hadron collider?" he said, distraught. "It would explain a lot."

"Wait, back up - you're saying someone sent you a pocket-sized particle accelerator in the mail? Rather than just, say, a toy from a crackerjack box?" Rodney stared at Sheppard, open-mouthed.  
Sheppard raised his eyebrows. "You know where I'm coming from here, then?"

"Yes, of course. I am not single-mindedly obsessed with snails - I do read other scientific papers that don't necessarily have anything to do with my specialism" Rodney was irritated now, but also bewildered. In truth he didn't read much outside his area of expertise, it frustrated him, made him realize what he didn't know and what he wasn't doing,

"We must have been close to the event horizon - maybe one of us on either side of it. It's possible another John Sheppard set it off at the same time I did - maybe many of us did. I bet most of them got destroyed too - probably the one from this universe." Sheppard looked at Rodney earnestly.

"That's a fabulous hypothesis, Sherlock, but that doesn't really explain why I seem to be shifted out of phase too - although of course we've only got your word that I have been." Playing along seemed as good a plan as any.

"I'll ask again - you know who Judy Garland was?" Sheppard cocked his head.

"Well of course I do - although only because I took a film studies course as an elective. She was a child star - in that film with Mickey Rooney where they put on a show right there." Rodney pursed his lips. Why his familiarity, or otherwise, with 60-year-old MGM musicals was relevant was still beyond him.

"And then?"

"And then she grew up and presumably did what all other child stars seem to have done - either got married and led obscure lives of quiet desperation in the mid west or crashed and burned in a maelstrom of drink, drugs, booze and sex. As I never heard any gossip-worthy stories I presume the former. She's probably some grand dame now, doling out Halloween treats to small children and baking cookies for the local Women's League. How should I know?"

"And that's what I'm talking about!"

"Car," Kavanagh reminded them.

"That's splendid repartee you've got going there, gentlemen, but I think we should join Lt Kavanagh now. We wouldn't want him to get into trouble now, would we?" Beckett smiled at them, indulgently.

"I haven't forgotten about this gene thing!" Rodney snapped. Although he very much doubted it was anything to worry about. Beckett was probably just making it up anyway - in much the same way as Sheppard was clearly making up his little story. Hadron collider, indeed. He was surrounded by jokers and fools.

"I suppose you're doing this to make a point," Kavanagh sighed. "But I did tell you at dinner that everything you ever learned was wrong. So, can we discuss this all later? You're not in charge yet, and this is a military operation - so I suggest you get your asses in the car before I'm forced to bring reinforcements. I'm a reasonable man, so just get going. If you feel like taking this out on me when we're in Antarctica that's fine, but until then..."

"Ok, we're coming," Sheppard said. "Or it could be a bubble universe," he said as an aside to Rodney as they followed Kavanagh to the car.

For some reason the song I'm Forever Blowing Bubbles rose unbidden to the edges of Rodney's consciousness. He dismissed it before it got close enough to hum.

The car was large, with smoked glass window. Kavanagh opened the door and gestured for them to go inside.

Zelenka and a baby-faced young man were already inside waiting.

"Hello again, gentlemen," Zelenka grinned. "I'll be accompanying you on your mission. This is agent Ford, he'll also be working with you. Would any of you like a glass of champagne?"  
Rodney glanced at Sheppard, who looked as tense as he felt. He could really do with a hug round about now.

He reached over and clasped Sheppard's hand, squeezing it reassuringly. Sheppard turned to him and smiled - it wasn't exactly a relaxed look but it was something.


	14. Fourteen

Zelenka huffed a little when he saw the less than discreet hand holding, but he smiled at them both anyway.

"Ah - now I see why we got you two as a package deal," he said, pouring the champagne. "Although I am assured that you've been doing some very important work together - cross-disciplinary, as it were."

"We have?" Sheppard's eyebrow cocked upwards.

"What I was going to ask," Rodney admitted. "We... But..."

Whatever revelation either of them was going to have was interrupted by Zelenka . "Agent Ford, could you reach inside that compartment for some more glasses, please?" Zelenka continued. "He's a bit of a whizz kid - the youngest field agent we have, isn't that right Ford?"

"And still I have to help serve the wine, sir," Ford said pointedly.

"Ah, don't be like that Ford, I would be getting them myself if I was sat on that side of the car. He was like this as a child too - and such an awkward teenager. I am surprised his mother and I stayed together for so long, really."

"Dad! I mean, sir!" Ford looked embarrassed.

"He's your son?" Beckett asked.

"Step-son. Nepotism is good for some things - but it helps if the family member can actually do the job properly. Which Aiden can, of course." Zelenka poured the champagne and passed it round, smiling.

Ford looked extremely uncomfortable now, clearly hoping his step-father wasn't going to drag out his baby pictures next.

"We've worked together for a long time, Rodney." Sheppard said slowly.

"Yes, I heard."

"So do you think I have a point now?"

Rodney had to admit to himself that in a crazy way, it was possible Sheppard really did have a point. And somehow he knew exactly what Sheppard was getting at earlier too. He could tell that Sheppard suspected he, or perhaps some other version of himself, had somehow, managed to poke a hole in the fabric of the universe. Probably destroying several parallel dimensions at the same time. Which still didn't explain everything. Least of all where a 'personal particle excelerator' could possibly have come from - it was beyond the realms of science fiction. Although he was still confused about the part that Judy Garland played in all this.

"Dr. Weir compared you two with Pierre and Marie Curie," Zelenka said.

"That's a bit strange, although flattering in a peculiar way," Rodney said. "And which one am I?"

"I meant only in the impact you have had on the development of the new project. It's been revolutionary - quite extraordinary, really. Although I believe Elizabeth might have also have been hinting at the close working relationship." He coughed. "The General can be a bit sentimental at times." Zelenka clinked his glass with Sheppard's. "Cheers."

"Oh, that's... .Fantastic?" Sheppard glanced around.

Rodney also looked around. Beckett was looking forlorn in the corner, a little left out.

"I suppose that means that the project is important to our future work - and that knowing all there is to know about it would be advantageous?" Rodney asked, leaning forward.

"Well, of course," Zelenka laughed.

"Of course." He sat back, heavily. Sheppard turned around and looked at him, a little lost - which was how he himself was feeling right about now. Rodney just wanted everyone but Sheppard to go away and leave him alone.

Beckett suddenly shifted in his seat. "Dr. Sheppard – if you don't mind me asking, what became of the device you were sent?"

"I had it in my pocket and ... well," he looked at Rodney. "It wasn't there in the morning. I didn't even think about it until you mentioned it back there."

"You lost it – an ancient artifact of unknown power and you lost it?" Beckett strared at him, mouth agape.

"It didn't look all that ancient to me," Sheppard shrugged. "And I didn't realise it was important at the time."

"Unbelievable," Beckett shook his head.

"Am I to understand the device has gone missing?" Zelenka said, alarmed.

"Pretty much." Sheppard sighed. He was giving a good impression of a laid back cowboy who didn't give a damn, but his grip on Rodney's hand had tightened. "The last thing I remember was it tingling and glowing. But, it... well, I can't quite recall but I believe it just... disappeared."

"Oh!" Zelenka groaned, placing his hand on his forehead. "Elizabeth won't be happy."

They were at the runway now. The six of them left the car and proceeded into the waiting plane, quietly. Zelenka seemed deflated, Beckett sullen, Ford looked around nervously and Lt Kavanagh just looked annoyed.

Sheppard and Rodney trailed behind, hands still fully entwined.

Sheppard reached over and whispered in Rodney's ear. "I don't really have a plan and I still don't know what's happening, but even if it's possible, I don't really want to go back to my universe – football excluded."

Rodney's lip quirked into a half-smile. From the corner of his eye he could see Beckett turn around to look at them.

"Well, apart from meeting you, every thing seems pretty much the same to me – so I concur."

"I'm sure any other version of me that might still be alive, trapped in another dimension would feel the same." Sheppard sighed. "OK, that's not true – if there was a me that was already with you then this has probably screwed up his life completely. But I still don't want to go back. Not without you. And if that's not possible, well... maybe this will all sort itself out and we won't have a choice in the matter. " Sheppard looked at him, worried. "I don't want it to just end like that."

Rodney put his hand on Sheppard's cheek. "Well, if all that is about to happen maybe we should have one last kiss." He took the plunge before Sheppard could reply. Beckett was still in his peripheral vision, but Rodney turned his body closer to Sheppard so he couldn't see him any more. It was a deep, hard, passionate and most of all needy kiss on both their parts.  
Pulling back he looked into Sheppard's slightly stunned face.

 

"Well, it's good that at least one of us has a plan," Sheppard said breathlessly.


	15. Fifteen

Sheppard looked around. Beckett was still standing on the steps to the plane, looking uncomfortable.

Zelenka appeared through the plane door. "Hurry, we haven't got all day," he said, irritably, before disappearing back into the hull.

The journey was long and uneventful. General Weir had gone on ahead and Zelenka spent most of the trip scowling. Beckett slept most of the way.

By the time they stopped off in South America for refueling Zelenka's mood had darkened even more.

"We don't have any clue what the device does, " he admitted. "But we were hoping it had something to do with our latest discoveries."

He would not elaborate further, but Beckett chose that moment to put his hand in his pocket and pull out the remaining device. It glowed palely in his hand.

"Mine is still intact, Mr. Zelenka. Would any of you gentlemen like to examine it?"

Sheppard backed away, arms up in a sort of surrender. "No, I don't want to touch it. I'm fine, thanks."

"I still can't work out why mine doesn't do anything more than this," Beckett shook his head sadly.

Zelenka held his hand out for the device, and Beckett reluctantly handed it over. The glowing faded as Zelenka touched it.

"It must be something to do with the gene," Beckett said. "I know Mr. Zelenka doesn't have it, nor does anyone else I have tested outside my immediate family. Maybe you're related to me, Dr. Sheppard - do you have any links with Scotland at all?

"Not that I'm aware of.," Sheppard said tightly. "Although it's hard to be sure. Maybe you're my long lost brother."

Beckett looked shocked. "No, my parents would never... . Neither of them... . Although my da... . No, I don't think that's possible," he wrung his hands in a flustered, nervous fashion.

"Relax, Doc, I don't think you really are my brother. That would just be a bizarre twist of events," Sheppard smirked and Beckett seemed to relax.

"I thought you said it was your mother that has your hooey gene," Rodney said.

"It was a very small community," Beckett mumbled.

"Why am I not surprised?" He rocked back on his heels smugly. "Wait, Sheppard, you're not an orphan are you?" Rodney asked, concerned. His own relationship with his parents could be strained at times - and he hadn't seen or talked to them for quite some time - but to have no ties at all would be hard. Rodney may have been running away from his background, but at least he had something to run away from.

"There really is no place like home, you know. Nowhere I have found yet, anyway," Sheppard said sadly, glancing at Rodney. "Although I keep looking. It doesn't matter, Rodney. Drop it, Ok?" He said gently.

Rodney gave him a closed-mouth smile and put his hand on Sheppard's arm. "Sure."

"Yes, well, that's as may be," Zelenka said angrily. "But we need to get back on the plane now. Time is of the essence."

 

Antarctica turned out to be cold. Rodney had expected that, of course, but he hadn't been expecting quite this degree of coldness. If it had been colder than this before global warming then Rodney was sort of relieved that he was visiting now.

The base had put on a welcome party for them. It was rather low-key. There were chips and dips and a rather watery punch that the base inhabitants seemed inordinately proud of.

"We're going to fly out to our Alpha site in the morning - it's a long way from here," General Weir explained.

"Do I get to fly the helicopter?" Sheppard said excitedly.

"Yes, that was the deal," the General's lips quirked into an almost-smile. She nodded her head curtly and then moved away to circulate.

"You hear that, Rodney? This is the best place, ever," he grinned widely.

"You satisfied you are suppose to be here now then?" Rodney had never really bought Sheppard's strange story, but it was a fun joke. "This isn't an alternate dimension now then?"

Sheppard's face clouded. "Oh. Well that's still an issue," he said, deflated. "Whatever you do, don't let me touch that thing of Beckett's."

Rodney almost choked on his punch. "I wasn't planning on letting you."

Sheppard frowned for a second, then his face illuminated. He broke into a goofy grin. "No. I mean... the device - I don't want to activate that one too - who knows what will happen."

Rodney recovered himself. "Oh, of course, well it's probably broken anyway. Beckett can't make it do anything much, can he?"

"I don't want to risk it. Don't let me touch anything!"

"I can think of a few things you should be touching," Rodney said sotto voce, causing Sheppard to flash him a wry, conspiratorial smile.

Beckett himself was hovering by the punch bowl. He looked lost and lonely and Rodney was feeling a strange pang of sympathy for the man; which was so uncharacteristic of him. Still, he had a feeling he could afford to be magnanimous, considering everything - so when Beckett looked their way, Rodney waved and gestured for him to join them.

"What are you doing?" Sheppard said through gritted teeth.

"Just being friendly," Rodney said.

"Well remember what I said about the touching!"

 

The next morning came. Bright light filtered through the thick windowpane, a shaft hitting Rodney directly in the eyes. His eyes fluttered open.

Rodney's first thought was that his nose was freezing. He reached up to rub it, shifting the dark-haired muscular arm that lay across his chest as he did so.

Next to him Sheppard groaned slightly. "You woke me up!" He said groggily. "Go back to sleep."

"Yes. Sleep!" Another, slightly-less American, voice muttered.

Rodney froze. "Um, Beckett - how exactly did you end up here?" He asked as nonchalantly as he could manage, considering the circumstances.


	16. Sixteen

Carson sat up and Rodney realized that the man was sprawled across the foot of the bed, like a dog on a medieval tomb at the foot of his dead master. He was somewhat relieved.

"Oh crap. That punch must have been more potent than I thought," Carson rubbed his head. "I must have passed out last night."

"That still doesn't explain why you're here - in my bed! I don't remember inviting you here," Rodney spluttered.

"Oh, aye - well you probably had a bit too much too, I wouldn't wonder. I came here to try and explain my theories - you insisted they were, I quote, 'kerplooey, humbug and nonsense'."

"Well they are ridiculous,"Rodney insisted.

"Cool it Rodney, let Beckett go back to his room and let's just get some more shut eye. It must still be early," Sheppard mumbled, staying mostly still, curled up against Rodney's side.

Beckett stood up shakily. "Yes, well. I will see you gentlemen later. Sorry for the inconvenience."

The formal tone seemed incongruous, but at least the man was fully dressed.

When he was gone Sheppard moved his head towards Rodney. "Thanks for making sure I didn't touch anything I shouldn't have," he smiled sleepily.

"I don't remember anything at all about last night. That can't be good - that's twice in a week. If I didn't know better I would suspect brain lesions."

"Nah - just punch. Lots and lots of it."

"I don't have a hangover."

"Well, that's a good thing," Sheppard said, snuggling up a little more.

"You're not bothered that Beckett seems to have spent the night with us?"

Sheppard chuckled. "Nothing happened, relax. There was no touching of any alien objects."

"Wait - alien - you think Beckett's thing is alien - as in from outer space," Rodney said, bemused.

"Sure. Alien. Don't you believe in little green men?"

"Are we talking about the same thing here?"

"The green flashy thing... The one I told you not to let me touch," Sheppard leaned on his elbow and raised his eyebrow.

"Oh. Yeah, that." Rodney gave him a lopsided smile and relaxed back into the bed.

 

Sheppard put the helmet on and climbed into the helicopter. He smiled over to Rodney as he settled into the pilot seat.

"I've missed this," he said."I missed it a lot."

His enthusiasm and simple joy was infectious and Rodney couldn't help but smile at him.

It took several hours to reach the alpha site, and Sheppard was preoccupied with flying for most of that time. Agent Ford had visited the area before and was acting as a navigator, which meant Rodney was stuck at the back with Beckett and Zelenka. Security protocols again dictated that General Weir flew in a separate helicopter along with Lt. Kavanagh. It was a shame, because Rodney felt he would have got on well with her, even though she was military and a little intimidating. As it was he was forced to talk to Beckett, who seemed fairly unembarrassed about waking up in the wrong bed, and Zelenka who seemed guarded.

Rodney wondered whether he had anything in common with the man, but he thought it was unlikely in any universe.

He did manage to glean something of what awaited them all at their destination, but it didn't seem to make much sense.

"We believe there was an ancient, highly developed, race - one that came before our own," Zelenka had said at one point.

It all sounded rather implausible, and based on legends rather than any concrete fact, and if Zelenka had mentioned lost civilizations like Lemuria and Atlantis, Rodney knew he wouldn't have been able to keep a straight face. Fortunately he didn't go that far. Sheppard's flippant little green men remark this morning had stretched his tolerance for fantasy about as far as it would go. He enjoyed a good science fiction story as much as the next man but that didn't mean he was gullible enough to believe any of these things might actually be true. He wasn't bound for Mu or Cloud Cuckoo land quite yet, no matter what some of his colleagues said behind his back at times. Or even, what was the name of that place Sheppard was raving about earlier? Oz? No, definitely not planning on ending up there.

Eventually they arrived, the clear skies had held, and the journey was fairly uneventful.

Weir was already inside the base, ready to greet them. Kavanagh and the wide-eyed young man from the meeting were with her (Markham was he?) And there were about a dozen other people milling around the atrium looking busy and fiddling with strange objects.

A man and a woman in late middle age were bickering and writing on a large white board. Rodney assumed they were a couple because of that bickering.

Weir introduced the pair first of all.

"Gentlemen, these are our archaeologists and translation experts, they are, like you, the best in their fields. May I present Melburn and Claire Jackson."

Rodney perked up. "No relation to Dr. Daniel Jackson?" It was unlikely, but sychronicity being how it was, and academia being so very incestuous, it never hurt to ask.

"Why yes, our son," the woman smiled warmly, pushing her glasses up her nose. "You know him?"

"Only by reputation." Daniel Jackson had spent a few terms at Rodney's university as an associate professor of comparative literature, a subject Rodney himself had absolutely no interest in. He only knew about Jackson because of the stories of debauchery and excess that came to him through gossiping colleagues. Of course he wasn't going to tell the man's parents that.

"We wanted Danny to follow in our footsteps, but he almost didn't go into academia at all. In fact it's a miracle he even passed his high school diploma - such a rebel, that boy. Ran away to join a biker gang aged 14 and didn't come back for six months. By which time he was covered in tattoos and... ." The woman stifled a tiny sob, and looked a little distressed.

"Of course we're proud he still managed to make something of his life. And he's calmed down a lot in the last few years," her husband continued. "Settled down a lot"

"We're so glad he found some one level headed to share his life," Daniel's mother nodded. "He's living in Canada with his friend Jack now. They breed Bernese Mountain dogs."

Rodney nodded politely.

"Wow - what's that?" Sheppard said suddenly. They had been walking down a corridor while they talked and had reached an ante-chamber far bigger than the atrium. In the middle of the room was a shaft of bluiesh light surrounding a large, gently undulating thing that seemed to be illuminated from some unknown source.

"Ah - well... It's almost certainly of the genus cephalopod , but it's not any species I've seen before," Rodney said, slightly awed.

"It's a giant glowy squid!" Sheppard exclaimed, ridiculously excitedly.


	17. Seventeen

"We don't know what it is," Weir said, turning to face the others. "That's one of the reasons we have gathered you all here. Not the only one, of course."

Rodney peered at the thing. "Where did it come from?"

"It just appeared a few days ago - we don't know," Weir admitted. "Though we needed you before that - you are the best in your field. " She smiled at him.

"I am? Yes. I am, of course," Rodney admitted.  
"We can't seem to break through to it," Kavanagh piped up. "Everyone's tried. We thought it might be an Ancient at first - but it looks a bit useless really. Like a giant lava lamp or something."

Sheppard reached out to touch the entity - whatever it was - before anyone could stop him. His hand slipped easily through the blue light. He pulled back quickly. "Tingly." He said.  
The entity writhed and then disappeared. There was a flurry of activity around the room as the change in status was noticed.

"I thought you weren't going to touch anything!" Rodney cried. "What did you do?"

"I don't know - I couldn't help myself."

The blue light was still there, glowing brighter than it has before.

"It probably responded to the gene," Beckett said. "I haven't tested Dr. Sheppard yet, but of course he has it. He must have if he made that other device work. It's the only explanation."  
"Quite," Rodney grimaced.

Kavanagh turned to Beckett. "We have other devices - we should test them with both you and Dr. Sheppard. Come with me - the others can deal with this," he indicated the blue light.

"I'm coming too," Rodney said weakly.

"No - you should stay here," Weir insisted. She seemed annoyed, maybe disappointed that the squid thing had disappeared before it could be tested properly. Rodney had to admit it was all a bit anticlimactic.

"But I can't do anything - the squid thing isn't even there any more." Rodney moved towards the light and stood there staring at it. "And if I haven't even got the gene I won't even be able to examine the blue beam thingy, will I?" He gestured expansively and his hand broke through the beam. For a second he looked slightly surprised, and then he felt his whole being glow. All of a sudden the beam moved slightly to the right, enveloping him.

Sheppard ran forward, "Rodney!" He yelled, then thrust his own hand into the beam. Rodney grabbed his hand and the light grew, surrounding them both. Then there was a flash, and Rodney felt as though his whole body was being pulled apart. He closed his eyes tightly.

The feeling passed. He felt Sheppard's body pressed against his own.

"What just happened?" He said through gritted teeth, unwilling to open his eyes.

"I have no idea - but we seem to have gone somewhere... else," Sheppard said, slightly panicked.

Rodney's eyes snapped open. They were in a room very similar to the one they left - but with a lot less personnel. None in fact. The blue beam was no longer there Rodney was unwilling to let go of Sheppard, but he decided somebody had to if they were going to work out where they were.

The two men looked at each other, Rodney had an overwhelming urge to kiss Sheppard, and there seemed no reasonable reason not to - if this was the end it was best to go out in style. He moved forward just as Sheppard did the same (clearly with the same idea in mind) Rodney opened his mouth slightly, and felt his tongue against Sheppard's. It felt right and he could have stayed here all day, all year even. It felt as thought they were the only two people in the universe. Even if somebody had come into the room at that moment he doubted he would have noticed.

And they couldn't have gone far, anyway. Whatever that blue light had been, it probably didn't do anything spectacular. They could just stay here, forever, it would be fine...

"Here they are!" A slightly familiar voice cried, before the same voice emitted a slightly more incredulous, "Oh!"

Rodney broke the kiss and looked towards the voice. Beckett stood at the doorway. He had changed his clothes. Rodney noted. He was wearing some sort of dark colored uniform and what looked like a bulletproof jacket.

"You had time to change?" Sheppard said, echoing what Rodney had thought.

"You've been gone for nearly four days!" Beckett said, "Of course I had time to change."

"Four days, really?" Rodney frowned.

"We've been searching all over for the both of you - of course if any of us had realized you had just gone somewhere quiet to make out..." The rest went unsaid. "I know there are rules, Colonel, but you didn't need to go AWOL. If either of you had told me, I could have helped, maybe. I'm not an ogre and I am fairly discreet - over and above patient confidentiality."

"Colonel?" Sheppard turned to Rodney and both looked confused.

A young woman appeared behind Beckett. "You have found them," she stated. "Are they unhurt?"

"Oh aye, unhurt and none the worse for wear, I shouldn't wonder," Beckett clucked.

"Hello, Miss... " Rodney looked at the girl. She was wearing the same costume as Beckett. "I'm afraid we haven't been introduced, so I am at a bit of a disadvantage."

The girl looked at him curiously. "Dr. Beckett, I thought you said they were unhurt."

Beckett sighed. "We had better get you two to the infirmary," he said. "Amnesia would explain quite a lot."

"Wait. What?" Rodney threw his hands up. "I'm perfectly fine. What about you Sheppard - okay?"  
Sheppard nodded in assent. "Fine. Still waiting to be introduced to this charming young lady - but apart from that..."

"You do not know me either?" The young woman looked at them curiously.

"I think that's been established," Rodney said. "Now, can we just get on with doing whatever we were brought here to do?"

Suddenly Sheppard snapped his fingers. "Teyla!" He said suddenly.

"What?" Rodney glanced around, confused.

"It's her name," Shepaprd said triumphantly.

"It is?" Rodney glanced at the woman who cocked her head to one side and stared at him with her dark, almond eyes. "Teyla? Yes, actually... Come to think of it..." He had seen her before somewhere. "Were you in one of my classes, perhaps?"

A casually dressed Zelenka appeared, carrying a laptop. "Rodney, here you are - we were actually beginning to miss your constant beration," he said in a thicker accent than he'd had earlier. "It is good you have been found. We need you to work on the power differential schematics. Surprisingly, it turns out we do actually need you some of the time. Geniuses are not as easy to come by as we had first thought."

"You think I'm a genius?" Rodney said surprised. "That's very flattering." Nobody had called him a genius before. It was a refreshing change. "But power schematics? Really? Are you sure I'm the best man for the job? Because you know, snails are really more my thing."

Zelenka sighed deeply. "Yes, very funny joke, your famous Canadian sense of humor is hilarious... but here...." He passed the open laptop to Rodney. "This is what we have come up with so far. Can you make any headway?"

Rodney glanced at the screen. "Of course I can." It seemed like an exceedingly simple problem to crack. "Are you sure you're not getting me confused with Dr. Sheppard here?"

Zelenka looked at him scornfully. "We have limited time left - and insulting the colonel will not help us to solve the problem."

"I wasn't insulted," Sheppard looked around. "Although I am still a bit...disoriented," he frowned.

"Yes, yes, but can you deal with it, McKay?" Zelenka said impatiently.

"Yes..." Rodney tapped the keyboard a few times and passed the computer back to Zelenka.

"Ah! Of course. Thank goodness you have returned," he said relieved. "Kavanagh is very useful, but he isn't as clever as he thinks he is - certainly not as much as you think you are. I will see you at the lab presently." He sauntered off.

"So it was a joke?" The girl, Teyla, asked. "Forgive me, I am still unused to your people's sense of humor." Her mouth quirked into a half-smile.

"I'm just Canadian!" Rodney said, frustrated. "Not an alien, for goodness sake."

"Yes, that is also amusing," Teyla nodded. "I believe I am becoming used to your ways."

"Insulting, I would call it," Beckett said. "But that would be nothing new. Aye, well I had better get you two to the infirmary anyway. You have been wandering around an unexplored area of the city."

"I'm a colonel!" Sheppard said, apropos of nothing.

"Yes, that you are, more or less, but that doesn't mean you're immune to any alien bugs. As we well know," Beckett said disapprovingly. "Maybe we should keep you in quarantine. Of course - oh crap - now I've let Zelenka wander off - if you have been exposed to something he's going to trail it all around the city..." Beckett dashed off after the retreating Zelenka. "Stay there... At least we know now the Wraith didn't get you..." He called back to Rodney, Sheppard and Teyla.

 

A few day later Beckett let Rodney and Sheppard out of the infirmary. Both were let 'back' on active duty. Rodney spent the day happily fiddling with odd alien technology and strange anomalies. It all made perfect sense. There was some talk of something called 'the wraith', but Rodney was sure it was nothing to be too concerned about.

Sheppard arrived at the lab, wearing a uniform similar to the one Beckett and Teyla had been wearing.

"You know we are still out of place?" He said, leaning against the door frame, languidly.

"Absolutely - are you going to tell anyone?"

"No - but - this may not be the best place to carry on doing what we've been ... doing. You know we aren't even in the same galaxy - let alone the same universe? Although football is back to normal - I checked. And I made a few over the rainbow cracks and everyone seemed to understand what I was talking about."

Rodney nodded. "Lock the door," he said. Sheppard obeyed and moved closer. "We'll just have to see what happens then." He got off of his stool and moved towards Sheppard. "It feels like we belong here though."

"Actually I think we belong just down the corridor - say my quarters in ten minutes," Sheppard smiled.

Rodney couldn't argue with that. There was no place like home, after all.


	18. Epilogue

It was a couple of weeks later.

Rodney had settled in well, and only occasionally needed Sheppard's help with certain problems. It was all too easy to believe that everything that happened before they had arrived here had been imaginary.

If anyone noticed there was anything off they hadn't said anything.

And there were times when Rodney could work out the problem on his own, with only a little help from Zelenka (who was proving invaluable).

It was all a bit of a lark, really. He had had nobody back home and as far as he could tell, neither had Sheppard, so ...

Atlantis, though. They were in Atlantis. It was bizarre that they had ended up in a mythical lost city. Sheppard had taken him up in one of those ship things that went through the stargate (a stargate!) The ones that everyone insisted on calling 'puddlejumpers'.

"It's a stupid name," Sheppard had said. "Apparently it was all my idea. Gateship is a far more practical description."

Rodney couldn't really agree. "Not the way you say it. It sounds funny."

"Why?"

"It sounds like you're saying two words. The second being 'chip'"

Sheppard said the word to himself a few times. And then smirked. "Oh yeah. Maybe the other me noticed.

"Wow – it looks like the Emerald City," Sheppard had said as they rose into the air above Atlantis.

"Do you think anything bad happened to the others – the other Rodney and ... and Sheppard?" Rodney had been trying not to think about this for weeks, but he couldn't help but worry.

Sheppard growled softly. "Rodney, let's not go there. "

"It's all a bit pat and convenient, don't you think? We live happily ever after – yes. But, why? What the hell happened back there?"

"They are us. They don't exist any more. Stop thinking about it." Sheppard said sharply.

"How can that be?"

"That device Rodney. It was that device. I think it really did destroy the other ... but I know who I am, I know all about how to fly these 'puddlejumpers', I knew Teyla as soon as I saw her, and I know that something bad happened to Lt Ford. I would like to make amends with that. I know almost everything that Lt Colonel John Sheppard knew. And think about it, Rodney, You know most of what Dr Rodney McKay knows – the one who became a genius world-class physicist."

"I do know more than I thought I knew. But..."

"We are us. We are supposed to be here. There is no other explanation. I need you to trust me with this."

Any further discussion was cut off when Sheppard chose that moment to kiss Rodney. A few suggestive eyebrow wiggles later and the previous discussion was forgotten.

Rodney chose not to forget the essentials of the conversation though. Discussion with Zelenka and Kavanagh about the intricacies of theoretical physics, string theory and travel between dimensions had to be couched in terms of Star Trek and other science fiction shows. Fortunately they seemed to have the same TV here as in Rodney's universe. In fact ever particular seemed to be the same here, but for the fact that he still had no clue why he had never heard of The Wizard of Oz until Sheppard had told him about it. He had found the book on Dr Beckett's laptop, and Sheppard rather conveniently owned the DVD of the movie. So the gaps were filled.

They had watched it on the big screen TV in the community room. Then Sheppard had insisted on playing an obscure college football game with some peculiar, supposedly significant move with a religious name. Teyla had watched too, even though she had clearly seen the tape a hundred times before.

"I enjoy these sessions," she had said. "Your culture's rituals fascinate me."

Rodney couldn't help but wish they fascinated her a little less – he would have like to have spent some alone time with Sheppard.

The only time he got to spend much time with the man was on the away missions. They had even managed to spend some time in a virtual environment the other week – saving the day and getting some virtual sex to boot. Not the real thing, of course, but better than nothing.

Through it all Rodney realised that he was stuck here and he didn't really care.

He had been clued in on the Ancients, the gene, the Wraith threat, and the possibility that they might die in this galaxy, far, far away from where he was born.

And he still didn't care.

Adjustment was easy.

He was pretty sure he knew everything that the Rodney McKay everyone had known on Atlantis had known. If people thought he was a little nicer, a little more tolerant of the squidgy sciences, they didn't say. It was probably they preferred him this way. He was still him, after all, just a more contented, multi-skilled, happy him.

And the more he learned the more he settled in to this new life.

This, despite the inevitability of all sorts of horrible certain-death scenarios, he didn't want to change it for the universe – any universe.

End


End file.
